


Girls' Night In

by originally



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/F, Footnotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2146410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originally/pseuds/originally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Girls' Night Out probably wasn't meant to end like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girls' Night In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Panny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panny/gifts).



“Well… this was different,” a muffled voice said, breaking into Angua’s blissful semi-doze with a groan. She groaned in reply and rolled over. Her head was pounding, and she couldn’t remember anything at all that had happened between leaving The Bucket with Cheery and Sally and this precise moment. _Girls' Night Out_ , she thought, despairingly. Girls’ Night Out* had become something of an institution amongst Watchmen of the female persuasion and their various friends and well-wishers, despite Angua’s efforts to the contrary. It happened like clockwork on the third Friday night of each month**. Commander Vimes had quickly learned that scheduling Angua, Cheery and/or Sally to work a shift on those evenings was Just Not Done if he wanted a quiet life, particularly since Lady Sybil had taken to joining them. 

Girls’ Night Out had settled into a predictable pattern, regardless of how often someone said, “Let’s shake it up a bit this week, shall we?”*** They always began at The Bucket, having discovered that getting Nobby settled in there with a pint and a packet of crisps was the only way to stop him from following them, and nobody wanted Nobby following them. Besides, ‘getting your round in’ was one of the most important currencies there was amongst policemen, and it was important to ensure that you were the one someone owed a favour to. Having completed that necessary duty, they then moved on to the Pink PussyCat Club. Here they would settle in with fruity cocktails with rude names to watch Tawneee convince a number of Ankh Morpork citizens to part with their money through the medium of dancing around a pole. At this point in the proceedings, someone would generally find themselves in possession of a feather boa. Nobody was very clear on where the things came from, or, possibly more importantly, where they disappeared to afterwards. Angua privately wondered whether there wasn’t a colony of feather boas living happily in the sewers somewhere, though this was certainly not a thought she would ever share with Sally. Once Tawneee had shaken off the more persistent of the Ankh Morpork citizens, a task which had become exponentially easier when word had gotten around that bothering Tawneee came complete with three Watchmen, the four of them would meet Lady Sybil at a dwarf bar. If anyone thought it was unusual that Lady Sybil liked to spend time in dwarf bars they didn’t mention it, but apparently she had become quite popular on the traditional music circuit. Finally, the five of them would inevitably head to Biers.

Heading to Biers was usually a spectacularly bad decision for a number of reasons, the main one being that the kind of drinks they served at Biers were designed to get the most hardy of the undead stinking drunk. Even Cheery, who had spent essentially the entirety of her formative years learning to quaff beer and sing about gold, could get plastered on one of Igor’s Dark and Stormies****. This inevitably led to increasingly tuneless sing-alongs*****, people becoming inexplicably emotional, and (Angua shuddered to think about it) _Fun_.

“Urrgh,” the voice said again, eloquently, startling Angua, who had almost forgotten about it. It was definitely Cheery’s voice, but a quick glance around the part of the room that was comfortably within her sphere of vision revealed no signs of life, dwarf or otherwise. She sniffed, and immediately regretted it. The stench of stale beer was almost overpowering, but on the other hand, she couldn’t smell vampire, which meant that they hadn’t all crashed at Sally's place as occasionally happened.

“Angua,” said Cheery, and this time she could identify the voice as coming from behind her, carrying a distinct air of puzzlement. “Was that a traditional part of Girls' Night Out?”

Two things that had been pressing insistently on the edge of Angua’s consciousness up until this point came to the forefront in a sudden rush of clarity: 1) that she was naked, and 2) that she was not alone in her bed. She rolled over with some trepidation, coming face to face with Cheery, who was wearing nothing but an endearingly confused expression. Angua’s memories from last night were beginning to return, in that fuzzy-around-the-edges, sepia-tinted way that memories from last night were wont to do. They were rather good memories from what she could tell, and she regretted that some of them weren’t quite complete.

“Angua?” said Cheery, eventually.

“Mmm?” said Angua, in lieu of actual words. She didn’t quite trust her voice not to growl when she was this hungover, and growling at people you had slept with, particularly if you happened to be a werewolf, was generally considered bad form.

“That thing you did?”

“Mmm?”

“With your hands, I mean. And your mouth? And your, er, your f— teeth?”

“Mmhmm.” Angua remembered rather enjoying that particular thing.

“I was wondering… I mean…” There was a definite note of hopefulness in Cheery’s voice now, and a slight flush was creeping across the parts of her cheeks that were visible above her beard. “Even if that wasn’t a traditional part of Girls’ Night Out… maybe we could shake it up a bit?”

Angua found that she was entirely looking forward to it.

* * *

* No-one was capable of mentioning it, or even thinking about it, without the Capital Letters clanging like a psychiatry textbook.

** Except, of course, for those times when the criminal element was inconsiderate enough to cause more than the usual amount of trouble on the third Friday night of each month. At these times, Girls' Night Out occurred on _Saturday_ night, making it work more like the clocks owned by the kind of people who operate railways.

*** Indeed, someone saying, “Let’s shake it up a bit this week, shall we?” was itself a time-honoured tradition.

**** He had got more of a handle on the intricacies of cocktails over time but still preferred them to sound vaguely menacing, or at least reminiscent of the old country.

***** Generally involving gold, although Tawneee had on one memorable occasion demonstrated that she knew all of the words to _A Wizard's Staff Has a Knob on the End_ , though not necessarily the subtext.


End file.
